


Coins in a Fountain

by 3RatMoon



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Winter, Pre-Spring, Threesome - M/M/M, Winter in Hieron Spoilers, the usual god nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3RatMoon/pseuds/3RatMoon
Summary: “Newcomers often have difficulty adjusting,” said his Lord to the five of them, “This is not because life here is difficult, but because the peace here tends to draw the pain from one’s previous life to the surface.”





	Coins in a Fountain

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to that one burst of Hadrian/Samsam content for reminding me how much I enjoy this ship, and thanks to dark twitter for being so tolerant and/or supportive while I whined about how long it was taking me to write it, back when it was called the Distraction Fic

“Newcomers often have difficulty adjusting,” said his Lord to the five of them. 

They were all sitting together at a table in the castle. Lem had caught up to Hadrian first, then Hella and Adaire, along with a scowling woman who Hadrian would be shocked to learn was the Queen of Death. Ironically, it was the Star who, at their Lord’s request, found them and brought them to the castle. Hadrian glanced between them and Hella, but if the two had yet breached the topic of Hella’s part in The Star’s death and transportation to this new world, Hadrian couldn’t tell. Now, after it had been confirmed that everyone newly arrived in the city had been gathered, they were seated and given food and drink and allowed to ask what questions they had.

“This is not because life here is difficult,” Hadrian’s Lord continued, “But because the peace here tends to draw the pain from one’s previous life to the surface. For some, it is immediate. For most, it takes a few months for it to set in. There are several people living in the city who you can go to for support when you need it, and if not them… you can come to me.”

Hadrian’s Lord had been moving his gaze between each person seated at the table, like any good speaker, but Hadrian still couldn’t help but shrink back when the King’s eyes met his.

After so long serving, wondering, praying, _hoping_ – after so many mistakes and even one willful betrayal or two– Hadrian was sitting at a table with his Lord, his _God_ , the Undying Fire Himself, Samothes. On death’s door for the second time, Hadrian found Him and felt the warmth of His love, saw pride in His smile. Hadrian still couldn’t believe it. Still in shock, probably. He nodded mutely when his Lord looked at him, and tried to steady his hand as he took another sip of the stew they were given (better to start slow while still recovering, someone said).

“We don’t plan to be here for months, do we?” Lem asked, turning to Hadrian and the others.

“Not if we can help it,” Adaire responded, “but I don’t know of anyone who has made it back out of here, have you?”

“Things have changed since you arrived,” a mage Hadrian didn’t know cut in, “We will be investigating further, to see if the draw of the Blade in the Dark has weakened enough for travel back into the Greater Hieron is possible. You all have a greater chance of success, since you came here body  _ and _ soul, rather than being drawn into the Blade upon death.”

“Thank you,” said Hadrian, trying to not think about that second point too closely, “Please share what you learn with us when you can.”

“Of course,” the mage answered cordially.

From what little Hadrian had learned about the Disciples of Samot through Samol’s retelling of the events in Marielda, he guessed that in other circumstances, the mage and he would have been enemies. It felt strange working with them instead. Strange, but also good, like what he had always hoped was possible– everyone peaceful and united under his Lord’s warm gaze.

Hadrian’s attention returned to Samothes, as the god sighed and glanced out the window. The sun was nearing the horizon.

“Unfortunately, I cannot stay longer,” He said, “I have work to attend to. Chapter, are you able to show our guests to their rooms for now?”

The Star nodded their orb-like head.

“Thank you. You can come to any of us if you have any more questions, but for now I would recommend that you try to rest. I will meet you all here in the morning.”

There were more quiet nods, a couple murmurs of assent, and then Samothes was gone down the hall, his cape fluttering behind him. Briefly, Hadrian thought of the Samothes he met in the world beneath his, the false Samothes, in his working clothes.

The five of them tried to eat a little while longer, Hella and Adaire exchanging hushed words, but eventually they had all they could stomach for a while. Chapter led them down the hall and up a twirling set of stairs to what looked like a floor entirely dedicated to guests. There were several rooms to choose from, and what looked like a bath at the end of the hall. Adaire was the one to break the awkward pause when it came to picking rooms.

“Second time staying in a god’s house, but still beats sleeping on the ground,” she threw out casually, picking the first door on the left and tossing her pack next to the sizeable bed.

Lem laughed weakly. “True.”

They all chose rooms close together in the end, perhaps out of habit. Only Hella wasn’t rooming alone, it seemed, as the queen followed her silently through the door before it closed.

In his room, Hadrian spent a while looking at himself in the mirror. Samol’s home had been large, but still modest in many ways, including no mirrors as far as he could find, so this was the first time he had gotten to really look at himself in several months. With his armor off, he looked small. His shoulders sloped more than he remembered, and strangely, the lines of his muscles seemed sharper. He thought he had cleaned up okay after he first arrived and was treated for his injuries, but looking closer, he could see specks of dried blood across his face and down his neck. Dirt was clumped in his hair and smudged under his chin. That was what eventually convinced him to stop staring at himself and go have a bath.

When he walked through the door at the end of the hall, Lem was already there, reclined in the massive bath and clearly lost in thought. After a pause, Hadrian cleared his throat and the orc blinked up at him.

“Mind if I join?” he asked.

“No, no, it’s fine,” said the bard in his awkward but amicable way. He waved a green hand, throwing little water drops across the surface of the bath. “There’s certainly room enough.”

“Yeah,” said Hadrian with a little laugh, starting to undress, “I just wanted to ask in case. Sometimes people want to be alone for a little while.”

Lem nodded, gaze going far away again.

Hadrian winced as he stepped into the bath, hot water splashing over his partially-healed wounds. Once he got settled though, the pain started to seep out of him. He sighed, resting his back against the edge of the bath and letting his head fall back to look at the scrollwork in the ceiling.

After a long while, Lem spoke up again. “So uh, how’s…” he trailed off for a moment, scooping up water from the bath to scrub at his face, “...You know. Meeting your god? Again, kind of?”

Hadrian laughed, weakly. “I don’t know. A lot has happened in the past two weeks… in the last two days, even. I met Samothes, then I learned that Samothes was dead and who I met was a different Samothes than the one I thought He was... and now…” 

He shrugged, water rippling around him. It kind of sounded absurd all laid out like that.

“Is… is it strange to say that I feel hopeful?” he eventually managed.

Lem smiled, wry. “Strange for me? Yes. For you? Not at all.”

Hadrian nodded. He might have talked with Lem more after that, but he didn’t remember it. He was just thinking about what he said. He thought about that the rest of the night, even after he had washed himself and twisted his hair and laid down to sleep. 

He knew it didn’t make sense. Samothes had been trapped in Hella’s sword, this Blade in the Dark, for longer than he could count. If they were able to escape now, it would probably have more to do with what they had done than anything Samothes Himself did. But still, he couldn’t deny that there was something about being in actual close proximity to his Lord that made him feel like everything would be okay. Despite the Blade, despite the Heat and the Dark… despite all of his fear and doubt. 

He believed that it would be okay.

 

The atmosphere changed as their stay turned from days into weeks, then into, yes, months. The mages were hard at work in a way they hadn’t been in many years, from what Lem heard. The orc had trouble convincing them to work with him, but he seemed to be getting through slowly, and always brought back what he had learned to the others. Hadrian found some solace in the fact that time seemed to run more quickly here than Outside, but it didn’t totally soothe the quiet anxiety living in his belly. He would walk on the grassy hills, or watch the people in the village go about their days, but he never felt totally at peace unless he was sparring with Hella, or in the presence of his Lord. In the end, he tried to make sure he spent a lot of time doing both of those things.

“Anything new at the meeting today?” Hella asked, sitting down on a low wall, still breathing hard from their latest session.

Hadrian sat down next to his friend with a sigh. “Just more plans. The mages think they can try to send a message to someone Outside. Samothes wants to try to contact Samot.”

The bright light of the afternoon sun reflected off the sheen of sweat on their skin. Hadrian dropped the dull practice blade onto the cobbles of the courtyard when they took breaks, but Hella kept hers with her. Neither of them had anything else at the moment, though they were assured that they would be supplied with replacements for the weapons they left Outside. Still, Hadrian understood Hella’s impulse. He felt perfectly safe here, but his hand still grasped for the hilt of his absent sword, sometimes.

“Makes sense,” Hella responded simply. That was how it worked between them. Hella wasn’t interested in the meetings between Samothes and the mages, but she knew that she would be involved once plans to leave the Blade started to come together, so she asked Hadrian about it, sometimes. Sometimes other things crept into their conversation, too, like they had something they wanted to say, but couldn’t quite manage it. They were usually able to fill the gaps between each other’s words, though. They understood each other well. Hadrian liked that about their relationship.

“Do you think they miss each other?” Hella asked.

Hadrian remembered the way Samothes looked when He suggested Samot as the recipient of their planned message. He remembered the way He smiled when He said He felt Samot’s influence on him.

_ “He sent you to me.” _

“They must,” he said, “Even when they couldn’t stand the sight of each other they missed each other, I think. And now, knowing that their goals have realigned…”

Hella made a noise that might have been thoughtful.

After a long moment, she said, “I used to think gods were completely different from us. But we’ve met all kinds of gods, now, and they feel things like us, make stupid decisions like us… In the end, the only real difference between gods and people is power.”

Hadrian looked at Hella, her chin rested on her fists. He followed the line of her gaze, and saw the woman, Adelaide, the Queen of Death, standing at the southwest corner of the courtyard and watching the both of them as she always did, silent and still as stone.

Then, Hella stood up, practice blade in hand, and Hadrian smiled. He was still kind of tired, but he was eager to start the next round, too. The quiet was too much– it needed the sound of boots on the cobblestones, and the clash of metal on metal.

 

Over all this time, Hadrian didn’t dream at night. It was a massive change from when they were Outside. Before, he drifted in and out of strange and frightening scenes, sometimes of great battles, sometimes as an object of pursuit through a dark forest, sometimes struggling towards the summit of a mountain while ash and smoke choked him. He would always call for help, but rarely was there an answer. So, Hadrian thought that he was perhaps finally at peace when the dreams stopped altogether.

That might have been somewhat true, but Samothes was speaking from experience when he warned them that the pains of the past tended to have a delay. For Hadrian, it was a little past the beginning of their third month Inside when the nightmares suddenly came back.

He dreamt violent, bloody dreams. He dreamt of the forest, and of sharp teeth tearing him open. He dreamt of ash clogging his lungs, turning him to stone from the inside out. He dreamt of dying, dying, over and over again in almost every possible way. But the worst dreams were when he was the one doing violence. He dreamt that he was in a militia for the Dark Son, that he was a Pala-din, that he was the Other Samothes, molding the liquid Heat and Dark to bring about His own ends. He dreamt once that he fought Hella, unable to control his body, unable to do anything but hope that she would kill him before he killed her. 

He didn’t talk about it because it was all so obvious, but it was still exhausting. Roughly a week into this new pattern, he entered into the meeting hall and found that no one else had yet arrived, except for his Lord, who turned his gaze upon His Paladin and immediately knew what was wrong.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” said the God-King.

Hadrian felt himself shrink under his Lord’s scrutiny. “No. I mean, not as much as I’d like.”

He didn’t notice that Samothes had stepped toward him until he felt a warm hand on his cheek. He met his Lord’s eyes and found concern and compassion there, and realized only then that he had been expecting something else.

“I am not here to judge you, Hadrian,” said his Lord, voice soft but totally compelling in the way that the voice of gods tended to be, “It is not weakness to struggle with what you did in the face of uncertainty, in the face of things set in motion long before you were born into my Father’s world. You sought me out, in spite of everything, and that is admirable. Many more see the same circumstances and stand back and do nothing.”

Hadrian’s eyes felt wet. “He told me to keep an open mind. I, I don’t feel like I did that, though. When I met… I let Him take the cloak, and I used that  _ sword _ … you know…” He gestured vaguely to his face. The strange purple glow of his eyes had mostly faded, but flecks of it still remained in his irises, like they were made from smoulderwood. It felt like a mark, a reminder of just how badly he had been fooled by the other Samothes, to the point that he had almost destroyed the very place where his Lord resided.

“But you kept calling. You kept praying for guidance.” His Lord had both hands on Hadrian’s face, now, and it felt like He was gazing right into him. He was so close, His warmth radiating from Him. “You weren’t afraid to keep asking questions, and… I hope you know… I always tried to answer when I could.”

Hadrian bit his lip and nodded, trying to blink back his tears.

“And you can still come to me with your troubles, Hadrian,” said Samothes, and Hadrian believed him, even when Lem and one of the mages came into the room a moment later and his Lord turned away from him to speak to them.

 

That night, Hadrian’s dreams were different. He saw a flash of crimson, but when he turned, the colour resolved into draped velvet. The glint of light off polished metal was revealed to be silvery bangles on his wrists, not a sword in his hand. He could feel the cloak laying comfortable over his shoulders again, and the weight of his ring on his finger. 

He looked slowly around the room, from a slightly crowded desk, to a couple mismatched bookshelves, to a wardrobe, a bed, a doorway into another room. While looking, he got the sudden feeling of dread that one would get when they realized that they might be trespassing. And, because Hadrian is who he is, his fear came out like a prayer, and when he stepped back uneasily, he found himself up against something solid and warm.

“Hadrian.”

The Paladin whirled around, and there was his Lord, dressed finely but still casual in His own way, his face shining.

“You called for me,” He said gently, moving a broad hand to rest on Hadrian’s arm, “Are you alright?”

“I…” Hadrian couldn’t think of why he would have called to Samothes. It was difficult to think of much at all, stunned as he was by his Lord’s presence. He could feel the heat coming off of the god’s body at this distance, and he could see the way the lights seemed to dance in His eyes, too. Hadrian noticed suddenly, in the way that dreaming people often do, that beyond the cloak and bangles, he wasn’t actually wearing anything at all. On his nakedness, they held new weight, acting less like clothing and more like adornments, like he was dressed as a statement. As an offering.

Samothes seemed to see the change in Hadrian’s demeanor. Perhaps He felt the way the blood rose in Hadrian’s face the way that Hadrian did. The Paladin watched as his god’s gaze traced down his body, His expression softening into something less like the Sun and more like a glowing hearth. He stepped closer, close enough that Hadrian could feel His breath over his lips when He spoke.

“Hadrian, did you call me here because of any kind of… desire?”

Hadrian swallowed hard, his head swimming. “I-I don’t know,” he stammered, “I’ve… I’ve thought about it before… I didn’t think I was thinking about it when I, uh, called You…” He kept looking between his Lord’s eyes and his Lord’s lips. “But I’m… thinking about it, now…”

Samothes smiled in an almost wicked way, his mouth a soft and inviting curve, and it reminded Hadrian, of all things, of the strange conversation between Exarch Alyosha and the Prelate of the Dark Son cult. “Does the thought please you?” He asked.

A million different But-I’m-Nobodys and But-I-Doubted-Yous ran through Hadrian’s mind, but in the end, there was only one answer to his Lord’s question.

“Yes,” he breathed.

Then his Lord’s lips were on his, warm and soft and a little chapped. Hadrian sighed into the kiss, tension leaving him in a rush. He found himself almost falling into his God as they kissed deeper, pressed together chest to chest. Samothes was magnetic, irresistible, all heat and muscle and dark curly hair just beginning to grey. Hadrian put a hand on His chest where His robes laid open, scratching his fingers over the skin and hair, and Samothes hummed pleasantly into Hadrian’s mouth. Hadrian trembled in His grasp, his Lord bearing his weight easily. When they pulled away from each other, Hadrian felt embarrassed by how hard he was breathing, but it was quickly washed away by the look on his Lord’s face– flushed and smiling. Pleased.

“You’re quite beautiful, Hadrian,” He said, running a hand through Hadrian’s hair. His Lord’s eyes wandered over his body, making him painfully aware of his nakedness, of his plainly visible erection. But his Lord was pleased by every inch of him, His expression steady and warm until his gaze fell on the cloak, when Hadrian saw His smile gain an edge of longing.

“This is the cloak he gave you?” He asked.

“Yes,” Hadrian replied, knowing too well that he didn’t actually have it anymore, and why that was.

His Lord could see the thought cross his mind, of course. “You wear it now because you still hold a connection to him. That is significant.”

Hadrian swallowed.

For just a moment, Samothes stared off over Hadrian’s shoulder, but He was backing him up to the bed, His hands steady on his hips. Hadrian sat down on the lavish black and gold covers, his breath catching in his throat when his Lord leaned in to suck at the skin just under his jaw. The god stayed close when he pulled back, whispering in Hadrian’s ear.

“When did you learn that Samot was my husband?”

Hadrian tripped over his words, confused. “I, we, Samol told us. When he told us about what happened in… what happened.” He was afraid of mentioning that time, when his Lord's husband was His enemy and His son, too, but even as he spoke, Samothes was pushing him gently onto his back, kissing down his neck and making him jump.

“I, I thought of both of you sometimes, after that,” he gasped, “Together. What that would be like.”

Samothes hummed low against Hadrian’s skin where he was sucking a mark at his collar. Hadrian could feel his Lord flush against him, skin and linen and muscle and the press of his cock where it was trapped between their stomachs.

“Do you want that now?” Samothes asked, a little breathy. When Hadrian looked up at Him, He looked back, smiling but hazy, like He was caught in the fantasy along with him. “Do you want his marks on your skin along with mine? Do you want me to fuck you on his cloak while you call to him?” He thrust up against Hadrian, dragged His whole weight across him, the friction pulling a ragged sound from him.

“Yes! Ah! I do, I–” Hadrian was stopped before he started to babble by his Lord’s kiss, hotter and messier than before, beard rasping against his face.

But then, with a start, Hadrian pulled back. He remembered the strange feeling of being an uninvited guest, that this room had an owner other than him, and gasped “My Lord, we–” before he was silenced by the click of the door opening.

Samot was there, as beautiful as Hadrian remembered, tall and elegant like the Birch, golden hair and silver circlet and eyes a shade of blue Hadrian had only seen in the Deep Ice in the Mark of the Erasure. He paused in the doorway, looking at the both of them with a careful expression before settling on Hadrian. “Hello, Paladin.”

Hadrian felt it when Samothes sighed like the breath had been forced out of Him. “Husband.”

Samot’s gaze moved back to the other god, piercing, studying. He closed the door behind him, striding over to the bed. Samothes had sat up and was looking at Samot with a kind of desperate hope that Hadrian would have once thought very much unlike his Lord. The two gods reached out to each other almost hesitantly, hands tracing each other’s faces. Samot leaned in for a kiss, soft, and when they parted, Samothes gasped like the breath that had left Him before had just returned before He surged forward to meet His husband’s lips again. Hadrian watched, stunned, as their kisses quickly escalated, wet and biting. They tangled themselves together, Samothes’s hand gripping Samot’s hair, Samot scratching bright lines down Samothes’s back where his robe had slipped off his shoulders.

They eventually broke away, panting, noses just brushing, and then Samot was looking down at Hadrian where he laid on the bed. Hadrian felt shy under the god’s gaze, embarrassed by how the sight of him and his Lord had him half-hard again already. The way Samot looked at him was so different; Samothes was all warmth and compassion, but Samot was cold and calculating, making Hadrian shiver, feeling like he had nails running over his skin.

Samot smiled, and it was not unkind, but Hadrian shivered again anyway. The god hooked his finger under the chain connecting his cloak, pulled. “Come here, Paladin,” he said, and Hadrian sat up.

Samot kissed the breath right out of Hadrian, having him gasping and dizzy when they separated. His hand gripped his hair tightly, pulling his head back to examine the mark Samothes had left on his skin. Hadrian watched him look at the other god sidelong for a moment before grinning again and dipping his head to make his own mark, making Hadrian yelp from the bite so close to already tender skin. When Samot had finished and turned back his husband, Samothes was staring at him with a dark, heavy-lidded gaze that made Samot smile.

Then, Hadrian was suddenly pinned to the bed by the weight of both gods, Samothes pressed flush to Samot’s back, moving his hair and the collar of his shirt to kiss his shoulder and his neck. Samothes rut up against Samot, which jostled Samot against Hadrian in turn. Hadrian moaned at the badly needed friction, leaned up to kiss the newly-revealed skin of Samot’s chest. Samot smiled down at him, through his lashes, and that along with the sight of Samothes over Samot’s shoulder, teasing the skin at his collar with his teeth, was something Hadrian knew immediately was going to be at the back of his mind for a long time. Samot kissed him again, furiously, Samothes thrust up against them harder, the three of them caught up in the heat and movement for many long moments before Samot reached back and pulled Samothes by his hair, stopping him.

“Didn’t you say something to your Paladin about fucking him on my cloak, Husband?” Samot asked, with such a sweet edge, releasing his grip on Samothes’s hair to stroke his cheek, “You don’t want those to just be sweet nothings, do you?”

Samothes got that almost wicked grin again, and Hadrian found himself wondering what they were like at the height of their marriage, when they were not opponents but co-conspirators. What was their kingdom like, with two minds like theirs working together?

Samothes kissed Samot’s hand and shifted back so that the other god could from between them. Then it was just Hadrian and his Lord, the heat and weight of His body and the feeling of His mouth overwhelming him. Samothes had shrugged out of his robes at some point. Samot was shirtless but still wearing his gold brocaded trousers and boots, which showed off the powerful line of his legs, and Hadrian couldn’t help but stare. Samot saw him, of course, and smirked at him. With his regal stance, his golden hair spilling over his shoulders, the small glass bottle of oil in his hands looked like a potion. Between the sight of one god and the feeling of another, Hadrian was having a hard time focusing. He gasped and flinched when Samothes nipped at his earlobe, which drew a chuckle from his Lord and a gentle hand stroking over his head.

“Are you alright? Not too much?” He asked.

“No, no, I’m fine, my Lord, please–” Hadrian said, all in a rush, and that earned another smile and His mouth on his again.

One pair of hands was undoing the clasp of the chain on his cloak, another was pushing his legs apart, and then a slick finger pressed inside him, making him moan into his Lord’s kisses, reaching for him desperately.

Samothes looked pleased, leaning forward to speak softly in Hadrian’s ear. “I see you’ve been taking plenty advantage of your free time.”

Hadrian felt like he might combust. “Y-yes,” he stammered, another sound escaping him when Samothes crooked his finger.

Indeed, he had put the lock on his door to a lot of use during his stay at the castle, and it made for an easier time as his Lord added a second finger, then a third. Samot moved to kneel behind Hadrian, holding his head and exchanging kisses with him and Samothes both. Before long, Hadrian was writhing under his Lord’s attention, sweat dripping from his brow back into his hairline.

“Please, please, my Lord,” he panted.

Samothes shushed him, stroking his hair, and looking up at his warm, kind face, Hadrian felt the sudden prickle of tears in his eyes. He pressed his face into the bed gratefully when he was turned over, grounding himself in the feeling of the cloak under him as his hips were positioned and Samothes settled behind him. But then a hand was lifting his head, and he was looking at Samot.

“I want to see you,” Samot said in that soft and commanding way that came so easily to gods, and to him especially.

Hadrian looked at Samot, even when his focus wavered and his mouth went slack as he felt Samothes push into him. Samot smirked, running his thumb over Hadrian’s bottom lip. Samothes gave a couple more shallow thrusts, testing, before he pressed forward the rest of the way and bottomed out with a sigh. Hadrian had already felt mad with bliss before, and now, feeling full to the brim, the touch of his Lord’s hands on his hips and His thighs against his hot like brands, he felt it even more keenly. He closed his lips around Samot’s thumb like it was a lifeline, something for him to focus on so he didn’t just fall apart.

When Hadrian opened the eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed, Samot was looking down at him with a want that made him shiver despite the heat.

“Samot,” came a rough voice from behind him.

Samot just smirked over Hadrian’s shoulder, a hand going to his fly. The beautiful black and gold of his trousers made the bulge there seem hardly obscene at all. “What? I can’t help if your Paladin has a greedy little mouth,” Samot teased.

“My Lord,” Hadrian rasped, pleading, but Samot shushed him.

“Don’t worry,” he said, softness in his voice again, “It’s alright.”

With that reassurance, Hadrian let his eyes fall closed again, feeling the movement of his Lord inside him with each little shift of his hips. Once, Samothes drew back just a little and thrust back in, like a reminder of his presence (how could Hadrian forget). Hadrian felt Samot’s hand on his cheek, heard the sound of buttons being undone. Then there was the blunt press of a cock against his lips, and he let it in gratefully, tasting salt and skin. He bobbed his head once, flicked his tongue against the slit just to hear Samot hiss in a breath.

“Didn’t I tell you?” said Samot smugly, recovering quickly, “He’s so eager.”

Hadrian could feel Samothes give the other god a look, and then He snapped His hips, jolting Hadrian forward onto Samot’s cock and drawing sounds from the both of them. A kind of rhythm manifested after that, Samothes pushing Hadrian forward and Samot pushing back. Hadrian swallowed, tried to relax into it, let his body be used as part of the momentum.

He  _ wanted _ to be used, he realized. He had been a leader before, but it was always under the guidance of his Lord, and after a year where the guidance he received was suddenly unclear and who he could serve and how was a question answered differently every day, he felt the need like a fire in his belly. Finally knowing his true Lord and feeling the bond between Him and his Husband, Hadrian wanted nothing more than to give them all of himself he could offer. He just wanted to give and give and  _ give _ because it was right and good and didn’t hurt at all, because it was his Lord holding him.

Outside the molten haze of being caught between the bodies of two gods, Hadrian was vaguely aware of words and touches being exchanged. He could feel his Lord’s hands on his hips, Samot’s hand on his jaw, helping him hold his head at a comfortable angle. Samot ran his nails over Hadrian’s back, some feral sound escaping his throat.

“Isn’t he good?” the god asked, his voice strained. Hadrian could hear his breathing, fast and sharp.

“Yes,” came Samothes’s voice from behind, soft and rough, “I can see why you took to him, even though he is one of mine. Hadrian.” The name came with the touch of Samothes’s hand over Hadrian’s chest and stomach, calloused fingertips teasing his nipples, and Hadrian could only moan in reply.

“Such a good little Paladin,” Samot breathed, his rhythm faltering for a moment, “How does it feel to be filled by your Lord? He’s big isn’t he? And yet you’ll take all of him and more, so eager to please… so good… so–” 

The string of praises broke off in a moan as Samot came, gripping Hadrian’s hair tightly, fucking him deep and slow and shuddering. Samothes held Hadrian steady until Samot finally pulled himself from Hadrian’s mouth and let go. Hadrian let himself sink into Samot’s lap, his ass still held up by Samothes’s grasp, and the new angle was enough to have him grasping at the cloak and muffing his voice in Samot’s thigh. Samothes fucked him with abandon, chest pressed to Hadrian’s back, one hand on the bed and the other reaching for Hadrian’s cock. Hadrian could hear his cries echo off the walls when he came, pleasure rushing through him white hot. Distantly he could feel his Lord’s grip on him tighten and His thrusts stutter and slow, His moans soft and low.

Samot’s fond laugh when the both of them collapsed exhausted on the bed was like a breeze over Hadrian’s too-hot skin. The cloak was sticky with his seed and Samot had no qualms cleaning everyone up with its remaining dry spots and tossing it in the corner of the room. He had shimmied out of his trousers at some point, so when he laid down on Hadrian’s other side, it was just the three of them pressed together, skin to skin. Hadrian thought that he was well and truly spent, but he had started crying at some point anyway. Samot just smiled a little and wiped the tears away. Samothes had an arm around Hadrian’s waist, His fingers trailing idly over what He could reach of Samot’s skin.

“You still think of me, Paladin. How flattering,” Samot commented smoothly, his composure returned, “I thought I had lost you for a while.”

“I, uh,” Hadrian felt hazy, “I don’t know how it happened, from where we are…”

Samot’s smile faded. “From where we are?” he echoed.

Hadrian felt Samothes tense behind him, but wasn’t sure why. “The sword…”

Both gods had sat up by then and were staring at each other with the weight of oceans. Samot reached out a hand and Samothes took it, their fingers intertwining. Hadrian suddenly realized how much of a fool he was. They hadn’t seen each other in an impossible number of years, yet when Samot saw him with Samothes in his room, they reacted less like they were reuniting with their lover and husband and more like they were indulging in a fantasy.

The room was starting to look hazy at the edges, and from the way Samothes looked up at the walls, He saw it, too.

“He’s starting to wake,” He said, turning back to Samot, “I’m sorry, Husband, we don’t have much time.”

“No,” Samot’s grip on the other god’s hand tightened, teeth gritted and eyes wide like a frightened wolf, “No, no, not again.”

“Listen, please,” Samothes put his other hand over theirs, “I am looking for a way to you. We are closer than ever with your envoy here.”

He glanced at Hadrian, smiling. Hadrian swallowed, his mind grasping at the rapidly unraveling edges of the dream.

Samot had paled before, but now he was red across his nose and cheeks. Tears ran freely down his face. “I’m so sorry, for everything, Husband, I’m–”

Samothes shushed him, moving his hand to his face. He was still smiling, even though he had also started to cry. “I’m sorry, too,” he said softly.

Hadrian could hear noise outside the room. He wasn’t sure he could hold on any longer. “My Lord,” he said, panicked.

Samothes didn’t look back at Hadrian, but Samot did. Hadrian had dreamt of Samot before, many times, but he never had the god look at him that way before, with such raw intensity, power propelled by fear. Hadrian would think of that look for a long time.

But, he never heard what Samot opened his mouth to tell him.

 

Hadrian stayed in bed longer than he normally would. When he finally dragged himself to the room where they had first all gathered together, which had become where they ate out of a kind of habit, no one was there except Adaire. She was busy tucking some scones into a kerchief, and looked up at Hadrian casually, as if taking extras out wasn’t, as he had mentioned more than once,  _ extremely _ rude.

“Oh good, you  _ are _ alive,” she said by way of greeting.

Hadrian frowned. “Good morning,” he replied.

Adaire turned back to her task at hand, tying the ends of the kerchief together to make a nice parcel. “Hella was outside your door this morning, wondering if she should knock. Said you had a morning spar set up.”

Hadrian paused in the middle of setting up his plate. He had forgotten about that completely. “We did,” he sighed, “I should apologize to her.”

Adaire waved a hand. “I’ll pass it on for you. Don’t worry about it. She knows you’ve been having trouble sleeping and didn’t want to wake you.”

Hadrian hid any grimace he might have made behind a bite of scone. It had probably been too much to hope that his exhaustion wasn’t going to be so obvious to everyone.

It was that moment that Adaire slid an awful grin in his direction and said, “I didn’t tell her about the funny noises you were making earlier.”

Hadrian almost choked.

“Well, anyway, I’ve got my own appointments to keep,” Adaire announced, picking up her parcel by the tie, “See ya later, church boy.”

Hadrian was about to get a last word in when Samothes walked in the room. Hadrian immediately sat up, feeling blood rush into his face. Adaire’s eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline, and she glanced at Hadrian as she left, but otherwise didn’t say a word.

Hadrian swallowed as Samothes moved to sit across from him. “Good morning, my Lord.”

Samothes smiled a little, putting Hadrian more at ease almost immediately, “Good morning, Hadrian. Is this an alright time?”

Hadrian took a breath in and let it out, nodded. “I think so.”

His Lord echoed the nod, His face serious. “I am aware that last night may have been… a bit different for you.”

Hadrian’s stomach did a small flip. “Yes, my Lord.”

Samothes sighed. “I see. I apologize for getting you caught in that. I didn’t realize that you had made a connection to Outside until nearly the end.”

“I don’t believe any of us did, my Lord.”

Samothes nodded again, quiet for a moment. He was looking down at His hands, His fingers laced together in the closest thing to a pensive gesture Hadrian had seen in his Lord. “You’re very generous, Hadrian. And, I feel that I must apologize again, for what I am going to ask of you.”

Samothes finally looked up, then, meeting Hadrian’s eyes. Without meaning to, Hadrian’s mind went wild with what possibly the request could be. His hands felt sweaty.

“Whatever you need, my Lord,” he said, because that was the only thing he could say.

Samothes smiled, like He couldn’t help it, and shook His head. “Again, you’re very generous. Perhaps too generous. Please listen and consider my request, then you can agree or not.”

Hadrian’s face felt hot again. “Yes, my Lord.”

The god looked so fond, for just a moment, before He turned His gaze back to His hands, sighing in much the same way Hadrian did when he steeled himself earlier.

“Right now, you are the strongest connection between the Outside and the Inside,” He started, “The mages are making progress, but if you are able to willing to work with them and with me more actively… we may be able to get you and your friends out of here sooner, and better prepared.”

Hadrian swallowed. “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to try to contact him again?”

Samothes nodded. “If you can. For now, I want you to keep a journal in your room so you can write down your dreams, in case they can communicate anything to us. We will discuss messages for you to send later, if you are able to speak to him again. The mages may want to study you, but anything they do will be discussed with both you and me first.”

Hadrian thought it over, then squared his shoulders. “I will help you in whatever way I can, my Lord,” his breath caught in his throat for a moment, “I… I just, uh…”

The god looked at him curiously. “Yes, Hadrian?”

Hadrian, for the second time that morning, thought he might just die in the chair he was sitting. “I just… hope that everything that happened last… last night doesn’t change how you see me, or how you see m-my relationship to you. That is all, my Lord.”

There was a pause, but then, “Do you  _ want _ that relationship to change?”

Hadrian looked up from his untouched breakfast to his God, who was the sitting there, head resting on His hand and mouth quirked in a grin. Hadrian’s heart might have stopped for a moment.

“M-My Lord!” he exclaimed when his wits returned to him, much louder than he meant to.

This made Samothes burst into laughter, and Hadrian felt so warm and so, so confused.

“Hadrian,” said the god with that fond look again, “As I have said before, you are a good man. Earnest. Determined. I still see that in you now. Last night did not change that. Nor would it change if you wanted more of that kind of experience again.”

Hadrian bit his lip, trying to not show the storm of conflicting feelings currently occupying him. “Thank you, my Lord,” he managed, strained.

Samothes laughed again, softer, and stood from His chair. “I’m afraid I have to go at the moment, but I’m pleased that you are going to work with us. And,” He leaned over the table, laying a small kiss at the corner of Hadrian’s mouth, “I am still here if you ever need me. That will not change.”

Hadrian didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until his Lord had left the room. He was still and silent for many long moments, staring down at his food. Then, finally, he stood up with a sigh and picked up his plate. Maybe he would be able to eat after resting a while. Just the two conversations had left him exhausted, and it was still morning.


End file.
